


in the stillness of remembering

by adamantine



Series: dragon keith & human shiro [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Keith (Voltron), M/M, alteans are elves but that's basically already canon, the galra are dragon shapeshifters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: Shiro knew the Galra had arrived before he could even see them. It was impossible to forget what it was like when dozens of creatures of mass destruction were plummeting toward him. The change in air pressure, wings that boomed like thunder when they flapped, the way the horses tensed, able to smell them. Next would be their roars and then that shift in the air as they took a deep breath before raining fire down on those below.No.That wasn’t going to happen this time. These Galra weren’t the enemy. They were here to make peace.Or: The one where the Galra, including Keith, are shapeshifting dragons.





	in the stillness of remembering

**Author's Note:**

> There's no dragonfucking in this, I'm sorry.............
> 
> Also, I never use the word "dragon" even once but I'm hoping ppl read the tags/notes/summary and realize they're dragons from that........

Shiro knew the Galra had arrived before he could even see them. It was impossible to forget what it was like when dozens of creatures of mass destruction were plummeting toward him. The change in air pressure, wings that boomed like thunder when they flapped, the way the horses tensed, able to smell them. Next would be their roars and then that shift in the air as they took a deep breath before raining fire down on those below.

 _No._ That wasn’t going to happen this time. These Galra weren’t the enemy. They were here to make peace. He would have laughed at the suggestion a year ago. Now? He was one of those waiting outside, believing that their offer of peace was true. These Galra had a hand not only in King Holt and Prince Matt’s rescue but in the death of Zarkon.

Still, it was difficult to ignore that his instincts were screaming at him to get ready for a fight.

Beside him, Princess Allura struggled to ignore her own apprehension at signs of the Galra. She shifted tensely, the jewels in her circlet shining in the sun as she moved. “I hope we're doing the right thing."

"It’s a little late to change our minds," Shiro joked, attempting to calm down his own nerves as much as hers. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but his face wasn’t quite up to the challenge. Not that it mattered; Princess Allura's eyes never left the sky.

The first of Galra were visible now. He forced himself to fight back his terror, breathing in and out with a purpose. It was a technique he’d found himself using after his return from captivity. He didn’t remember learning it, which was disconcerting but typical. He barely remembering anything about his time in captivity. As much as he hated the missing time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember it all, not when what he did remember left him with enough nightmares.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

He wasn’t in Zarkon’s prison anymore. He was outside the Garrison’s gates. The castle-fortress had never been taken by the Galra. There were ballistae doting the entire fortress. He was safe. Zarkon was dead. These were Marmora Galra, the group that had killed him.

While his mind understood that, his body didn’t. Shiro couldn’t stop himself from tensing when the first Galra neared the ground. It was massive, with blue-black armor and a long scar over one eye. The ground shook when it landed and Shiro braced himself for the screams and smell of burning flesh that followed the Galra to the battlefield.

"Are you all right?" Princess Allura asked, breaking the waking nightmare that had started to take hold on him.

"I'm fine,” he said, embarrassed. He should have been asking her that. The Galra had destroyed her country. There was nothing left of Altea but a few hundred refugees. Compared to Allura, he had it easy. He had his home and his people. He was even blessed to not remember everything he’d gone through. His traumas were not for her to worry about.

He flinched at the loud thud of another Galra landing. He didn’t need Allura’s expression to know his lie was pathetically obvious.

“As fine as I can be anyway. You?"

Allura gave a noncommittal shrug that captured his feelings more than words ever could and went back to staring at the Galra.

A bright red streak zoomed across the sky. Shiro had seen Galra with red markings before, but never one that was fully red. Most of the Galra were dark muted colors that blended into the night—their preferred time to attack. The Marmora’s armor helped conceal some of the Galra’s red scales but even in darkness, it would make an easy target. It was unusually small for a Galra which might make up for its disadvantage of being bright red and an easy speed that might further complicate things. He started to form battle strategies on how best to strike it down from the sky.

 _No._  He had to stop thinking like that. The war was over.

The red Galra began to fall, crashing toward the ground, and for a moment Shiro thought someone  _had_  shot it down. A different sort of terror gripped him at the sight. The treaty was ruined. He reached for the sword at his side, already preparing for the worst. But before Shiro could unsheathe his sword, the Galra shot back up, accelerating with a speed Shiro had never seen, until it reached its previous height. The climb up was faster than its fall. The Galra made a perfect, smooth glide in the air, uncaring that it had just done something that broke all natural laws. Abruptly, it repeated the action: the glide once again turning into a free fall only for the Galra to launch itself back into the sky at an impossible speed.

The third time it happened, Shiro reached a conclusion that threw him more off-balance than the day he'd received word that Zarkon was dead.

The red Galra was  _playing._

It went against everything he knew about the Galra. This wasn’t how they did things. They didn’t play. They didn’t have fun. But he couldn’t deny what he was seeing. There was an obvious joy it took from flying that stirred something in him. The fear that had threatened to overtake him gave way to something else. Awe, envy, longing—he felt it all watching the red Galra. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, only losing track of it when it shifted.

* * *

 

One week into negotiations and Shiro still wasn't entirely sure which of the Galra was the Marmora’s leader. At first, he thought it was Kolivan. With the way the Marmora listened to him, it seemed a natural assumption. Yet Krolia’s armor was nearly identical to his, suggesting they were similar in rank. Kolivan would also defer to her, but he couldn't tell if it was because she outranked him or if it was because he held her opinion in high regard. Perhaps they shared leadership. He couldn't pretend to understand Galran politics. It was difficult enough to keep up with the Garrison’s politics, and he’d grown up in court. He had a soldier’s sensibilities, not a politician’s.

"There are still those loyal to Zarkon,” said Krolia. “We can’t guarantee your safety if you return to Altea, Princess.”

This was the issue of today's negotiations, and of yesterday’s and the day before’s. Allura desperately wanted to start rebuilding Altea but Krolia and Kolivan kept urging her to stay away. Allura didn't like that one bit. She was convinced the Galra were trying to absorb Altea's lands into Daibazaal. Shiro didn’t think Krolia and Kolivan were lying about the dangers of returning, but they were hiding  _something_  and that prevented him from siding against Allura, no matter how stubborn he believed she was being.

His mind wandered as the argument restarted for the umpteenth time. He caught himself staring at the two masked bodyguards behind Kolivan and Krolia. They could not have been more different. The one guarding Kolivan—Antok, he had heard Kolivan say—was so large he couldn’t enter most rooms in the Garrison without lowering his head, while the one guarding Krolia was shorter than Shiro.

The small Galra noticed Shiro staring. A mask covered its face, but it wasn’t able to hide the way its body angled toward Shiro. There was a curiosity behind its attention. Shiro wondered what kind of face it was making behind the mask. What did it think of Shiro—his metal arm, his silver hair, his scars?

“Excuse me if I have a hard time believing in your promises.” Allura’s voice took on a sharp edge, yanking him back to the debate. “My father once put his faith in your kind and you betrayed him in the worst way imaginable. It will take generations to rebuild that trust.” Allura’s grief was a tangible weight on everyone in the room, unyielding as it pressed down on them.

King Holt’s expression was strained, but not apologetic. He wouldn’t side against Allura. Without her help in holding back Zarkon’s forces, they wouldn’t even be sitting in this room. She had been instrumental in holding the country together when King Holt, Prince Matt, and Shiro had been captured. She commanded their army in place of Shiro. She was their strongest ally and a dear friend. But if they couldn’t come to an agreement with the Galra about Altea, negotiations would break down.

Shiro steeled himself to glance at Krolia, afraid of what he might see, but her expression was unreadable to him. She might as well have been wearing one of the Marmora masks.

“Keith, come here.”

The small Galra startled and turned sharply in Krolia's direction. It took Shiro a moment to realize this was “Keith.” It wasn’t a Galra name.

Keith made no attempt to follow Krolia’s orders. Beside her, Kolivan frowned.

“Keith,” she said more forcefully.

Keith hesitated before finally walking to her side.

“This is my son, Keith.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shot up. Krolia was using her son as a bodyguard?

“I’ve never agreed with Zarkon’s ways, but after having Keith it became vital to destroy his regime. Keith, remove your mask and hood.”

Keith’s posture was unsure and questioning, but he did as she asked. The mask deactivated in a flicker of violet magic. Keith lowered his hood. Black hair spilled around his shoulder. He looked up and Shiro gasped for an entirely different reason than the rest of the King Holt’s court. Keith was beautiful in a way that made Shiro weak in the knees. If he wasn’t sitting, he would have fallen to the ground already.

“That’s impossible,” Allura said. “This is some sort of trick. How can he be your son? He’s human.”

“No,” Shiro said. There was a vicious scar on one side of Keith’s face. He imagined it was a violet marking instead and the rest of Krolia’s features fell into place. “Look beyond their coloring, Princess. The resemblance is there.”

“How can this be?” King Holt asked.

Krolia raised an eyebrow mischievously. It was a surreal sight. It seemed everything he assumed about the Galra was going to keep being challenged. “Surely you must be aware of these things. You have a son and daughter yourself.”

King Holt stared at her slack-jawed. It was a sentiment Shiro shared, especially once Krolia started laughing.

“Krolia,” Kolivan chastised, “weren’t you trying to make a point by unmasking Keith?”

“Fine, fine.” Krolia brushed away tears of laughter. Keith stood awkwardly beside her in the perfect image of a son embarrassed by his mother. “Years ago I was injured by one of Zarkon’s generals. It was a nasty injury and an even nastier fall. I was dying far from my people when a human man found me. He nursed me back to health, not caring that I was Galra. When I recovered my strength I knew I had to leave to continue the fight against Zarkon, but I couldn’t imagine a life without him anymore. I took him back with me. Keith is our son together.”

“Where is he now?” King Holt asked.

“He’s at home, back in Daibazaal.”

They’d left him alone in Daibazaal? What little Shiro remembered of the country was unwelcoming to humans. Everything was built with flight in mind. Buildings were carved into mountains without paths, towers were built without staircases. Perhaps the Marmora had created accommodations for Krolia’s mate.

“That’s all very nice, but I don’t see why this means I should trust you,” Allura said, refusing to be moved by Krolia’s revelation.

Shiro winced and froze as he realized how bad it looked to wince at anything Allura said. Keith caught his slip and watched him with obvious interest. Keith seemed to be around his age or younger but much like the Alteans, the Galra’s appearances were deceptive. They aged at a much slower rate than humans, though Shiro wasn’t sure how that worked in Keith’s case.

“Trust me, Princess Allura, because I want peace between our people for my own selfish reasons. I want a world where my son isn’t forced to pick one part of his heritage at the expense of the other.”

Keith’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked down, hiding his face from view.

“How do you know Altea isn’t safe to return to?” Allura asked.

Krolia took a deep breath and shared a look with Kolivan. He nodded his approval.

“We know because we have spies embedded within Zarkon’s former supporters. They are living near Altea, in the ruins of Daibazaal’s former capital.” This revelation shocked the room as much as Keith’s heritage did. The old capital was cursed by dark magic. The Galra had abandoned it centuries ago. That they would risk going back there—Zarkon’s supporters were either desperate, mad, or both. “We  _will_  destroy them. And after we do, we’ll help you rebuild. If you’d like our help that is.”

“We’ll see what happens when the time comes,” said Allura, her inflection so unchanged it took him a moment to realize that she was finally accepting Krolia was telling the truth.

The tension passed and the negotiations moved on.

* * *

 

Shiro was an early riser. It was a force of habit developed from years of waking up to train and study battle strategy while a soldier. Despite what others might have thought, he hadn’t become the youngest general in the country’s history because of his noble background or connection to the royal family. He had earned that title with hard work and dedication. But he wasn’t in the military anymore; he was part of the King’s council now. If he wanted to better himself he should have spent his mornings reading treatises and practicing etiquette—but he didn’t. Instead, he wandered around the Garrison, enjoying the peace and quiet as the rest of the world slept.

The morning after Shiro learned Keith’s name the sky was a brilliant red, putting the roses in the royal gardens to shame. He was utterly bewitched by the color. As he stared up at the sky, a Galra as red as the sunrise weaved through the clouds.

It flew without armor. His initial impression that it wouldn’t blend into the sky the way the other Galra did was wrong. At dawn or dusk, it became near invisible. There were two small windows of opportunity for it to attack each day if it chose to, and with that impossible speed it possessed, that was all it needed to devastate their army. Lucky they were on the same side then.

The Galra landed in the woods. Shiro was tempted to seek it out, but they were on opposite sides of the Garrison. He wouldn’t have made it in time to confront it. Besides, he had a feeling he knew which Galra it was that he had been watching. Different and dangerous and devastatingly beautiful.

He woke up earlier the next morning to see if it would fly again.

It did.

There was a clearing in the woods big enough for the Galra to land in. He waited there for it, guessing this was the spot it had landed in yesterday. He watched it fly. The sky wasn’t as brilliant a red today, but the Galra still was able to blend without trouble. If was strange–none of his usual fears of the Galra seemed to surface as he watched it. It was smaller than the average Galra, sure, but it was hardly minuscule and it had that terrifying speed. It was a dangerous predator with claws that could gut him with one stroke, jaws that could crush his skull, and a tail that could knock him off his feet. But it was also strikingly beautiful, flew with an infectious joy, and playful in a way that charmed Shiro. It was hard to trigger bad memories when nothing about it reminded him of the Galra he’d fought against.

When the sun started to come up in earnest—dosing the sky in blues—the Galra flew toward the clearing. Shiro hid behind the tree line. Its wings thundered above him. Suddenly, it did remind him of other Galra; a prickle of fear surfaced. The ground shook when it landed. Shiro lost his balance and fell.

His fall caught the Galra’s attention. Its senses were well beyond a human’s, especially in this form. It moved its way toward him, its claws tearing up the clearing as it did. Fear wrapped around Shiro in earnest. It was stupid of him to sneak up on it. For all it knew, he was waiting for a chance to exact some revenge.

“It’s me!” he shouted, stumbling as he crawled out from behind the trees, raising his hands in what he hoped the Galra understood as a sign of surrender. “It’s me, General Shirogane!”

The Galra froze. Shiro didn’t bother hiding his sigh of relief as his fears passed.

“I wanted to meet you after seeing you fly.” He lowered his hands. “Your flying—it’s beautiful.”

Emotion flitted behind the Galra’s eyes but Shiro couldn’t read it. It was unable to speak in this form—at least not in a language Shiro could understand.

The Galra pointed its head to the left of Shiro. It was trying to tell him something, that much was obvious, but he could only guess as to what.

“Uh, you want me to go left?” The Galra shook its head. That gesture at least was understandable. “You  _don’t_  want me to go left.” A nod, followed by the Galra pointedly turning its head around. “There’s something behind me?”

The Galra shook its head before turning it slowly and deliberately to the side. It repeated the gesture several times.

Shiro searched behind him but all he saw were trees. He turned back toward the Galra, exasperated. “I don’t see any—”

The Galra was shifting into its other form, its features morphing and shrinking as it did; tail disappearing, claws retreating, dark hair growing, red scales replaced with light skin until all that was left was Keith curled over his knees on the ground. Lavender markings bloomed on his back, wrapping around his torso and tapering off above his hips.

Keith swayed as he pushed himself off the ground. Whatever magic allowed the Galra to shift forms had left him disorientated. Shiro rushed to his side, holding out a hand to keep him steady. A chain hung around Keith’s neck with a bright red scale hanging from it. Something about the contrast of the necklace on Keith’ bare skin made Shiro’s brain catch up to his eyes.

_Keith wasn’t wearing anything._

“Your clothes!” he squawked, letting go of Keith in an abrupt panic. Keith swayed dangerously but he didn’t fall. It seemed his strength was returning. Shiro kept his eyes firmly above Keith’s waist. It didn’t occur to him that he was capable of averting his eyes entirely.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you. I left my suit behind that tree.” It was Shiro’s first time hearing Keith’s voice. It was a lovely voice. Shiro already knew he could listen to it endlessly.

“How was I supposed to understand that from”—Shiro jerked his head, mimicking what Keith had done—“all that?”

Keith scowled but the effect was ruined when he shivered in the morning chill. “Can you just turn around so I can put on my suit?”

“Uh, sure.” Shiro scrambled to obey as Keith stood up. He was proud of how well he was keeping it together but he was sure that would end if he got a good look at Keith’s lower half.

“You can turn around now.” Shiro nearly jumped out of his skin when Keith spoke into his ear. Keith was apparently a master of stealth. His skin burned where Keith’s breath had reached it. He would have accused Keith of breathing fire on him, but he knew the Galra couldn’t do that in this form.

He turned to glare at Keith but the expression died on his face. Keith’s formfitting Marmora suit barely counted as being dressed.

“What?” Keith asked, smirking.

“Why did you take your suit off anyway?” Shiro blurted out. The suit had magical properties that allowed it to shift as Keith did, turning into armor. The chain around his neck had to have those same properties, or it would have snapped when Keith shifted into his larger form.

“It’s nicer to fly without it. Plus, I was trying to blend in. Not that it worked since you found me.”

“I was searching for you,” he said simply.

Keith looked at him oddly. “You’re not afraid of me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Should I be?” Shiro asked.

Keith shook his head.

“Then I’m not.”

The morning light bathed Keith in red. It was almost enough to hide the flush forming on his cheeks.

* * *

 

Sharing his mornings with Keith became a routine. Shiro hadn’t realized how lonely those early hours were until he had Keith filling them up. Being around Keith brought out parts of Shiro he had long buried. He found himself relaxing, doing things he shouldn’t have because they weren’t proper for someone of his station. It quickly wasn’t enough to just see Keith in the mornings. He sought him out the rest of the day too. Keith kept his mask on inside the Garrison and other than the King’s council, no one else had seen Keith without it. Shiro wasn’t even sure if his half-human status was common knowledge, but if it was, it didn’t stop people from watching Keith with distrust as he cozied up to the Garrison’s golden boy. Shiro ignored them. They understood nothing. Keith shined more brilliantly than anyone he had ever met–human, Galra, or Altean. If others couldn’t see that it was their loss.

He spoke with Keith about anything and everything, until it felt like they had known each other for years instead of weeks. He learned about Keith’s childhood and the confusion it caused for all of them. They weren’t sure if Keith would be able to shift. He seemed fully human. But one day he did. It shocked Keith so much he had set his bed on fire. It was something the Marmora still mocked him for.

Krolia had spent a lot of time on undercover missions when Keith was growing up. She was one of the Marmora’s founding members and there were some things only she was equipped to handle. Keith clung to his father growing up and felt neglected by his mother. It took training with the Marmora as a teenager to repair his relationship with Krolia. His resentment dissipated once he understood everything she did was to protect her family.

Keith seemed to age at the same rate as humans did, which caused him some amount of frustration with the Marmora. By their standards, he was a child. He had to remind them that he was an adult, the equivalent of a Galra nearing their first century. He had a tendency to be reckless in proving he could take care of himself. It was a habit Shiro could relate to.

Shiro told Keith about his life in King Holt’s court. His mother had passed away in illness when he was a child and his father had been killed in the war against the Galra. The royal family had taken him in as a ward, raising him until he was old enough to take over the Shirogane estate. Only Shiro had chosen to become a soldier instead of sitting idle as the rest of the world fought the Galra.

Until Keith, Shiro had avoided talking about his imprisonment, even with the King and Prince. It was more than just avoiding painful memories of his arm being taken, being tortured, and wondering if he would live to see the next day. Shiro hated talking about his captivity because there were things he did for Zarkon that made him feel like a monster. Few people knew Shiro had been a gladiator. The Marmora—including Keith—were among the few that knew the truth since it was one of their agents that had saved him.

“I would like to thank him,” Shiro said.

“He died,” Keith said, knocking the wind out of Shiro. “Not long after. I’m sorry.”

Many of the Marmora had died to end Zarkon’s reign. Keith’s loses rivaled Shiro’s own.

The sun was just beginning to rise. Keith was strangely quiet as they walked to their usual clearing in the woods. Shiro tried to fill the silence by telling Keith about the Garrison’s many festivals–they were always trying to find something to celebrate, even if it was just the change of seasons–but when he mentioned the upcoming harvest festival Keith shut down completely.

Their usual banter as Keith undressed was absent. Shiro waited for the flap of Keith’s wings—his signal that it was okay to turn around again—but the woosh of air never came. Confused, Shiro turned around and found Keith in his shifted form, lying forlornly on the ground looking more like a depressed cat than a giant firebreathing Galra.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asked, even though he couldn’t understand whatever Keith articulated in this form.

Keith flopped his head on his massive claws and closed his eyes.

Despite Shiro’s insistence that he wasn’t afraid of Keith, Keith had never let Shiro approach him in this form, instead always keeping Shiro at a distance.

Shiro approached him silently until he was at Keith’s head. He reached out with his flesh hand to stroke the scales on the side of Keith’s face. Keith’s eyes flared open in shock, but he didn’t move away. His eyes closed again, this time in contentment.

It surprised Shiro how easy it was for him to pick up on Keith’s emotions even in this form, but it had been that way from the start. He was able to read the joy from Keith the first time he saw him fly. Keith wore his emotions openly, without thinking. It was so different from what he was used to. The nobility were taught to conceal their emotions, lest they be used against them.

Keith’s scales were softer than he had expected them to be. Shiro had never touched a Galra’s scales before, not even the scales of a dead Galra. He wasn’t the type to collect trophies of his kills. He didn’t own anything made out of Galra hide either—the concept of which now made his stomach turn. The idea of someone carving up Keith to make him into bags or armor or whatever else it was that Galra hide was used for disgusted and angered him. His tension must have caught Keith’s attention because he opened his eyes and tried to shift away from Shiro, suddenly nervous.

Shiro threw his weight on Keith’s neck to pin him down. It wasn’t enough to truly stop Keith if he was determined to move, but it got the message across. He waited until Keith relaxed again before getting up.

“Your scales are softer than I expected them to be.” He scratched at Keith’s neck fondly, pleasantly surprised when Keith turned his head to give him better access. “I thought they would be rough and hard and that’s why they’re so hard to pierce. But it’s actually the way they knit together that protects you.”

Keith turned onto his side, exposing his chest and underbelly. Shiro took it as an invitation to touch. He splayed a hand against Keith’s chest and gasped. “You’re hot,” he said, delighted. “How does that work? Is the fire always inside you? I wonder.” He leaned into Keith, enjoying the heat in the morning cold. It was better than sitting in front of a roaring fire. He wanted to stay curled up against Keith the rest of the morning, but he was afraid if he did he would miss his chance to explore the rest of Keith forever.

Keith’s entire underbelly was warm, but not to the same degree as his chest. The scales here were even softer. He resisted the urge to rub more than just a hand against them. He moved further and further away from Keith’s chest, missing the way Keith tensed as he got closer to his back claws. Keith’s tail curled around him, stopping him from going further.

“What is it?” Shiro asked, trying to break free from Keith’s grasp.

Keith stood up and lifted Shiro off the ground with his tail. Shiro ceased struggling. He was too shocked. “What are you doing?”

Keith set Shiro gently down on his back and withdrew his tail, leaving Shiro clinging to Keith’s back for dear life. It wasn’t that high up, especially not once Keith settled back onto the ground like a content cat, but it was still significantly higher up than being on a horse. When he was certain he wasn’t going to fall, he let himself lean into Keith, resting his head against Keith’s scales. The steady beat of Keith’s heart filled his ear.

They stayed like that for a while until Shiro began to drift off, which seemed like a waste. There was still so much more of Keith he wanted to touch. He forced himself to get up. As he did, Keith’s wings caught his eyes.

He slid toward them carefully. The scales on his wings were thin but strong and close together. He could see why trying to pierce a Galra’s wings almost always ended in failure. They were not as vulnerable as they looked. Keith’s wings fluttered when Shiro ran his nails down them.

“I’m climbing down now,” Shiro said.

He slid slowly, afraid of injuring Keith despite knowing how impossible it was for Shiro leave even a scratch on Keith’s scales. Once his feet hit solid ground, Keith moved so he could look at Shiro. There was an invitation there, one that Shiro gladly responded to.

Shiro leaned his forehead against Keith’s snout and closed his eyes. “Tell me what’s bothering you. Why did you shut down when I mentioned the future?”

Keith withdrew from him. Shiro worried he had upset him.

Shiro opened his eyes and saw that Keith was shifting. When it was over, Keith took a step toward him but stumbled on his newly regained legs. Shiro caught him before he could fall. It always took Keith some time to adjust after shifting into his smaller form. It was a weakness unique to him. His two forms weren’t quite as connected as they should have been if he was full Galra. Full Galra always had claws and fangs, while most kept their same eyes; some still had their tail, or even their horns or ridges. Keith lost everything when he shifted into his smaller form. He said it was like returning to a brand new body.

“They’ve picked a date for our departure. We don’t have much time left,” Keith said, holding onto Shiro’s arm for support with inhuman strength.

Shiro knew it was coming. Negotiations were winding down. There was not much left to discuss. At first, It filled him with anxiety and dread but as the end of their time together grew closer, a newfound clarity came over him. Who was forcing them apart? King Holt? No, he wouldn’t try to stop Shiro. Krolia? Why, when her own mate was human? The rest of the court? Why would he care about their opinions? They had no power over him. The only reason Shiro and Keith would need to separate was if they wanted to, and that wasn’t something Shiro wanted. If Keith would let him, he’d stay by his side.

“I won’t need much time to say goodbye to everyone,” Shiro said. “Though it would be nice if we could stop by family’s estate on our way to Daibazaal. I’d like to say goodbye to everyone there. Plus, I’d like you to see it.” Keith would enjoy the Shirogane estate. It was a secluded property with rolling hills, a forest, and even a lake that Keith could enjoy in any form.

“What?” Keith pulled away in confusion.

“Did you think you’d be leaving without me? I’m coming with you.” Shiro rested his hands on Keith’s shoulders.

“But your home is here,” Keith said.

“I’m sure King Holt won’t mind making me an ambassador to Daibazaal.” Shiro would be infinitely more useful as an ambassador than as a retired general scrambling to keep up with court politics.

Disbelief turned into pure joy as it seemed to finally sink in that he wouldn’t have to part from Shiro. Happiness looked good on Keith. Shiro licked his lips and brushed away a stray lock of Keith’s hair. He was the reason Keith was smiling like that, the reason Keith’s eyes were soft and bright. He knew he should let Keith get dressed, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Keith out of his sight.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down. Keith’s lips met his in a kiss that was shockingly sweet and gentle. Shiro’s heart went into overdrive. Keith was kissing him. Keith was kissing him! And he was so strong. Shiro knew it already but feeling it for himself a different story. It was—it was too much. Keith’s casual crushing strength as he kissed him with such care went straight to his groin. He panicked and pulled away.

“Keith, I—“ He froze when he saw the hurt and anger in Keith’s expression.

“So touching me anywhere and everywhere is okay, but kissing me is too much?” Not a trace of Keith’s earlier happiness was left.

“Touch you—what?” Shiro stared at him in confusion.

“Earlier, when I was in my other form!” Keith snapped. “You even tried to fondle me!”

Oh.

Oh shit.

He was an idiot. Keith was still Keith no matter his form. Shiro knew that—he knew that! And yet, he had treated touching Keith in his other form like petting one of the stray cats in town.

Shiro went bright red as he realized why Keith’s tail had stopped him.

Shit, shit, shit. He had attempted the equivalent of shoving his hand down Keith’s pants and  _had tried to fight him on it._  He was mortified beyond belief.

“No! I mean—I didn’t realize what I was doing!” He struggled to explain himself.

It was the wrong thing to say. Keith took a step back as if he had been Shiro’s words had physically shoved him.

“Oh.” Keith curled in on himself, folding his arms across his chest. “I guess I misunderstood.”

This was going all wrong. “No, Keith listen. I wouldn’t do that to you. I—”

“—I get it,” Keith cut him off, the hurt in his voice clear. “You don’t think of me that way. You don’t need to explain any further.”

“No,  _you don’t get it_  because I’m not explaining this right. I want to touch you, Keith, in any way you’ll let me. I just—I hadn’t thought about what it was like for you when I was touching you earlier and now I want to die of embarrassment. If you hadn’t stopped me with your tail…” Shiro buried his face in his hands. He was pathetic. He was probably as red as Keith’s scales.

Strong hands grabbed his own, pulling them away and forcing him to meet Keith’s eyes. “You want to touch me?” Keith asked, looking as if he hadn’t listened to single word Shiro had said after that revelation.

“Yes,” Shiro admitted.

“Okay.”

Shiro closed his eye and bent down to meet Keith’s lips. It was quite a distance—Keith was barefoot while he was in boots, exaggerating the difference in their heights. Shiro almost had to completely hunch over to kiss him. He didn’t mind one bit. As long as he got to kiss Keith he would have bent himself in half to get the job done.

He dragged his hands down Keith's back. The cool metal of his right arm made Keith shiver. Keith said it was Galra-forged metal and if Shiro was Galra the arm would have shifted to accommodate both of his forms.

Keith sighed against his lips, giving Shiro’s tongue the opening it needed to deepen their kiss. Keith made a noise of surprise before meeting him eagerly. It was cute. Keith was cute. Keith probably wouldn’t appreciate being called cute, so Shiro kept that thought to himself.

Shiro was content with kissing Keith until he either collapsed from exhaustion or his spine snapped from leaning down too long (whichever came first) but Keith’s shivering grew strong enough that it had Shiro worried. He was still undressed and the mornings had been getting chillier as winter approached.

“You’re cold.” Shiro struggled to keep Keith’s lips away long enough to talk. “You should put on your suit.”

“Don’t want to. Think of a better way to keep me warm.” Keith pressed his body against Shiro’s and made exaggerated shivering motions. It was ridiculous to watch but deadly to feel. “Hurry, before I freeze to death.”

Shiro would have rolled his eyes if not for the fact that Keith’s little performance was having its intended effect. He could no longer be trusted to make any sensible decisions. He was quite content to follow Keith’s every command.

“This is a bad idea,” he said, leaving a trail of kisses down Keith’s chest as slowly got down on his knees.

“I disagree,” Keith’s hands dug into his hair. “It’s the best idea.”

“I guess I’ll have to try my best.” Shiro sucked on the skin at Keith’s hip.

“Shiro—“ His reply was lost when Shiro’s lips reached their next destination.

By the time they made it back to the Garrison, the rest of the world had already woken up. It was the latest they had ever returned.

Keith was lucky. He was able to cover himself up in his Marmora suit. The marks Shiro had left were safely hidden. Shiro had to artfully arrange his collar to cover up the marks Keith’s had left—to say nothing of his hair. He had given up trying to fix it without a mirror (Keith had been completely uninterested in helping him) and knew it looked like a bird that couldn’t sit still had been nesting in it. His disheveled appearance was catching the attention of every person they passed by which only served to amuse Keith, pleased to not be the person everyone was staring at for once.

Still, Shiro felt a pang of regret as he parted from Keith. He didn’t want to be away from him but he needed to clean up before the day began in earnest, and that was never going to happen if he brought Keith with him. He sighed. What a dilemma.

Shiro scurried to his rooms, carefully avoided making eye contact with everyone he passed. If he hadn’t already decided to leave the Garrison for Daibazaal, he would’ve had to find somewhere else to move anyway.

* * *

 

Keith’s Marmora suit clung to Shiro like a second skin. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the scars covering his body were visible through it. It shouldn’t have fit him since while Keith certainly wasn’t dainty, he didn’t exactly have Shiro’s bulk either but the suit’s magical properties weren’t limited to becoming armor. In addition to magically adjusting to its wearer, it also regulated body temperature, offered protected against the elements, and combined with the mask made it possible to breathe in any condition—all of which would come in handy during the flight to Daibazaal.

Shiro was lucky he could use the suit at all. Humans weren’t supposed to have the ability to use them, but Shiro did thanks to his arm. Without the suit, Shiro would have been forced to travel by land with his luggage.

Shiro and Keith waited in an open patch of land while the Galra made their final preparations before leaving. Keith leaned against Shiro for warmth. Since Shiro had stolen his suit, he would be flying without armor. He didn’t mind since he had gotten used to flying without it, but there was the issue of what he was supposed to do before and after he shifted forms. The solution they came up with was outfitting Keith in a thin robe for modesty that would be easy for Shiro to store in his utility belt when it wasn’t being used. It wasn’t the greatest plan, but at least it was  _something_.

“You don’t have to do this. We can travel by land.” Keith leaned into his arms.

“And miss the chance to fly with you? I don’t think so.” Shiro played with Keith’s hair, marveling at its softness.

Keith gave him a fond smile. “You remember what to do if you want me to land?”

“Yes, now stop worrying so much. I trust you.” Shiro kissed his forehead.

Krolia gave the signal. The moment to leave had arrived.

Keith stepped out from his arms. Shiro missed his comforting presence immediately.

He focused on Keith as the Galra around him began to shift. He packed Keith’s robe and waited until red scales filled his vision, soothing him and making him feel safe among the dark scales of the other Galra.

He climbed onto Keith’s and secured himself to the chain around Keith’s neck. He didn’t think he would fall as long as Keith didn’t try any stunts but the precaution was necessary to alleviate Keith’s fears. Shiro had refrained from telling Keith that even if he fell he had absolute faith that Keith would catch him. He didn’t think Keith would appreciate it.

Keith turned his head and looked back at him, questioning. Shiro might never learn the language of the Galra, but he was starting to catch on to the language of Keith.

“I’m ready,” Shiro said.

Keith flapped his wings and they began to rise.

**Author's Note:**

> NOW THAT I GOT THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM......will I finally write canon-based sheith that's /just/ sheith??? I sure hope so.....


End file.
